the object of her affection was actually the reason she couldn’t breathe at the moment — it was crushing her lungs from the inside out, feeling like she was imploding but losing all of her parts slowly, dropping off one by one as she walked from room to room in the abandoned building. it owuld be easier if she could just forget everything and move on, breathe again.
you’re the apple of my eye
i watched you grow and
prettily flush
is that an
invitation
to eat you up
find out if you’re sweet
and see the flesh inside?
People are too obsess with objects. People are owned by their objects, not their objects owned by them. People are now possessed by what they own. It’s quite sad, but it will remain that way because we have been raised in a materialistic culture.
Ich bin ein Objekt, sagt man mir so. Sagt mir der Fernseher, sagt mir mein Freund, impliziert mir die Schule und sonst alles, was ich vom System bisher so mitbekommen habe und sie haben die verschiedensten Gründe mich zu instrumentalisieren und ich will mich instrumentalisieren, um mich nicht mehr objektifizieren zu lassen, ich weiß nur nicht, ob das so sinnig ist, ob das einen Unterschied macht, ob ich überhaupt eine andere Wahl habe, ob ich das verantworten könnte vor allem und sterben will ich sowieso, vielleicht ist das Objektsein kein schlechter Kompromiss. Fickt euch, ihr versteht ja doch kein Deutsch.
An object is a thing not often of significant magnitude however it can be viewed or perceived as something of some importance. An object can be dangerous or safe, beatiful or ugly, its a word of differences and describes the great and horribe things around us
A body is an object. We like to give it more credence because the intent of it’s owner but that’s all we are: objects in space. Living, breathing, moving, loving, fighting, eating, cursing, sleeping, running, fucking, hateful, friendly objects.
Object of what? Study? No, but thank you. I don’t need to be dissected today. Last night they took me up, up and away in their spacecraft, but I don’t remember the details. Something about a different planet. The stars look different from space.
the seabirds lean and
sigh to the headwind
sawing their cries
as we scavenge, orphaned
sucked among casks, netting
stupefied
mouthing hosanna
to a fiery, mute god
the dust and clay
of our provincial lychgates
will not swallow our bones –
‘all souls lost ‘
as if highwaymen dancing the gibbet
as if we wished this pouring out
like water onto sand
An object is a thing.
An object is a place.
An object can be the world
Or a freckle on your face
An object is anything
Anything at all
An object can be amazing
Or not really, it’s your call
Sometime I feel like an object. I feel a lot like a vase. Like I’m out of glass. It’s not hard to break and oversee me but it’s hard to fix and see me as something that has a function, a reason why it is what it is.
the seabirds lean and
sigh to the headwind
sawing their cries
as we scavenge, orphaned
sucked among casks, netting
stupefied
mouthing hosanna
to a fiery, mute god
the dust and clay
of our provincial lychgates
will not swallow our bones –
All souls lost –
As if highwaymen dancing the gibbet
As if we wish this pouring out
Like water onto sand
“The object of the game,” said Jimmy. “Is don’t get killed, and if you do that then you will be fine.” “Who wants to play?” No one was there, they all left as soon as they heard ‘Don’t get killed.’
The object was in Justin Bieber’s house. Then it traveled to mine, then i found it at Jennifer Anistons’ house. And when i went to Taylor Lautners’s house, it was there. I went to pick up my grammy on stage and instead of my grammy award, i was given the object.
i had an object in my hand, i had gotten mad at my sister so i threw the object at her, and she came over to me and i curled up into a ball and she started hitting me with it
I love this object. Its a shiny, gold necklace that says love. Why do I love this object? It was given to me by somebody very special…my boyfriend. He loves me dearly, I think. This object is a symbol of how much I mean to him. I love him so very much.
I object to the widely held notion
That love always comes with pain
That to give is to be disappointed
By someone that has motive to gain
Your heart can only be broken
If you allow it to be trampled upon
Be watchful with eyes ever wary
Because love is a game to be won
It was an interesting object. Seen everyday though not really noticed. The little child lifted up its arm and reached for it. Her dad pulled her away from it and she cried. The object was left laying there waiting for someone to pick it up.
he was the object of my desire
the person i thought might break the spell
of going so long without a boyfriend
it was such a possibility that both he
and i threw away
like a broken object
There was an object that sat in the middle of the room. Everyone sat in a circle around it. The students sat in silence as the teacher taught. He then gave the students the task to write about the object. The object was strange and weird. It caused the room to go silence by its strangeness. The class was all wondering what is wrong with this teacher that he would bring this object in and ask the class to write about it. This teachers head has to be out in his own world. Who would bring in a mannequin leg and set it in the middle of the class.
What is the objection to the object of your desire? Do you fear that it may linger? What about cause a fire? While nary a man, woman nor child could point a finger, snicker or stare – they could never object.
I am not a object, I am not something that can be played with, I am not something that you merely can throw away when you get bored, I am not someone who can you can possess. So don’t treat me like an object.
like Nerp DERP
Object.
You are an object of appreciation.
You are an object of fancy.
You are an object worth ten thousand dreams ((they never exist))
You are an object.
Nothing more than an object.
the object of her affection was actually the reason she couldn’t breathe at the moment — it was crushing her lungs from the inside out, feeling like she was imploding but losing all of her parts slowly, dropping off one by one as she walked from room to room in the abandoned building. it owuld be easier if she could just forget everything and move on, breathe again.
you’re the apple of my eye
i watched you grow and
prettily flush
is that an
invitation
to eat you up
find out if you’re sweet
and see the flesh inside?
People are too obsess with objects. People are owned by their objects, not their objects owned by them. People are now possessed by what they own. It’s quite sad, but it will remain that way because we have been raised in a materialistic culture.
Ich bin ein Objekt, sagt man mir so. Sagt mir der Fernseher, sagt mir mein Freund, impliziert mir die Schule und sonst alles, was ich vom System bisher so mitbekommen habe und sie haben die verschiedensten Gründe mich zu instrumentalisieren und ich will mich instrumentalisieren, um mich nicht mehr objektifizieren zu lassen, ich weiß nur nicht, ob das so sinnig ist, ob das einen Unterschied macht, ob ich überhaupt eine andere Wahl habe, ob ich das verantworten könnte vor allem und sterben will ich sowieso, vielleicht ist das Objektsein kein schlechter Kompromiss. Fickt euch, ihr versteht ja doch kein Deutsch.
An object is a thing not often of significant magnitude however it can be viewed or perceived as something of some importance. An object can be dangerous or safe, beatiful or ugly, its a word of differences and describes the great and horribe things around us
A body is an object. We like to give it more credence because the intent of it’s owner but that’s all we are: objects in space. Living, breathing, moving, loving, fighting, eating, cursing, sleeping, running, fucking, hateful, friendly objects.
Object of what? Study? No, but thank you. I don’t need to be dissected today. Last night they took me up, up and away in their spacecraft, but I don’t remember the details. Something about a different planet. The stars look different from space.
Object- something….that’s it. Seriously I could list off a ton of objects, but really everything is an object. So that would take forever.
the seabirds lean and
sigh to the headwind
sawing their cries
as we scavenge, orphaned
sucked among casks, netting
stupefied
mouthing hosanna
to a fiery, mute god
the dust and clay
of our provincial lychgates
will not swallow our bones –
‘all souls lost ‘
as if highwaymen dancing the gibbet
as if we wished this pouring out
like water onto sand
An object is a thing.
An object is a place.
An object can be the world
Or a freckle on your face
An object is anything
Anything at all
An object can be amazing
Or not really, it’s your call
Sometime I feel like an object. I feel a lot like a vase. Like I’m out of glass. It’s not hard to break and oversee me but it’s hard to fix and see me as something that has a function, a reason why it is what it is.
the seabirds lean and
sigh to the headwind
sawing their cries
as we scavenge, orphaned
sucked among casks, netting
stupefied
mouthing hosanna
to a fiery, mute god
the dust and clay
of our provincial lychgates
will not swallow our bones –
All souls lost –
As if highwaymen dancing the gibbet
As if we wish this pouring out
Like water onto sand
I do not ever be an object. I do not want to belong to someone.
Except you!
One night I was walking when i saw something it was an object in the sky nobody knows what it was but it was out of this world.
The Judge always says I abject.
i am thinking of an object. do you know what object i am thinking of? guess what…..the object i am thinking of is an object as well.
the object of my affection is anger. not you anymore, my love. ironically, anger gives me the peace of mind i need.
“The object of the game,” said Jimmy. “Is don’t get killed, and if you do that then you will be fine.” “Who wants to play?” No one was there, they all left as soon as they heard ‘Don’t get killed.’
The object was in Justin Bieber’s house. Then it traveled to mine, then i found it at Jennifer Anistons’ house. And when i went to Taylor Lautners’s house, it was there. I went to pick up my grammy on stage and instead of my grammy award, i was given the object.
There was a strange object floating in the air.
I saw an object the other day in my dream.
i had an object in my hand, i had gotten mad at my sister so i threw the object at her, and she came over to me and i curled up into a ball and she started hitting me with it
I picked up this mysterieous object in the dark
the object of the game is to hit the ball and run to the base
I not a very material person i like only certain objects…. like sports gear,food, and clothes.
the object i am using is a keyboard and i am typing on it
I object to the immorality in the world today. What has happened to our lives that we need the filth the world has to offer?
I looked at the strange object. I couldn’t tell what it was so I walked away.
I love this object. Its a shiny, gold necklace that says love. Why do I love this object? It was given to me by somebody very special…my boyfriend. He loves me dearly, I think. This object is a symbol of how much I mean to him. I love him so very much.
I object to the widely held notion
That love always comes with pain
That to give is to be disappointed
By someone that has motive to gain
Your heart can only be broken
If you allow it to be trampled upon
Be watchful with eyes ever wary
Because love is a game to be won
decoration i need more objects so I can decorate my room, my desktop at the office and more space so everything is in place
It was an interesting object. Seen everyday though not really noticed. The little child lifted up its arm and reached for it. Her dad pulled her away from it and she cried. The object was left laying there waiting for someone to pick it up.
objecting my happiness. it’s the only way to live. i’m desperate to forget.
he was the object of my desire
the person i thought might break the spell
of going so long without a boyfriend
it was such a possibility that both he
and i threw away
like a broken object
There was an object that sat in the middle of the room. Everyone sat in a circle around it. The students sat in silence as the teacher taught. He then gave the students the task to write about the object. The object was strange and weird. It caused the room to go silence by its strangeness. The class was all wondering what is wrong with this teacher that he would bring this object in and ask the class to write about it. This teachers head has to be out in his own world. Who would bring in a mannequin leg and set it in the middle of the class.
What is the objection to the object of your desire? Do you fear that it may linger? What about cause a fire? While nary a man, woman nor child could point a finger, snicker or stare – they could never object.
She never knew what it was like
not to be an object.
i have a object in my room.
I am not a object, I am not something that can be played with, I am not something that you merely can throw away when you get bored, I am not someone who can you can possess. So don’t treat me like an object.